Not Tired...Exhausted

It's 4:30am, German time. I've been up roughly two hours.

Cauldron wrapped up yesterday afternoon around 2pm. As per usual procedure, I spent the evening in a Frankfurt hotel, with a plan to board my return flight Monday afternoon. Unlike prior years, I'll be stopping off in Iceland, spending a couple days sightseeing before returning to Seattle on Wednesday night. My family, is already there, no doubt enjoying thermal springs and the beautiful Aurora Borealis, so difficult to see from our normal neck-o-the-woods.

In Seattle, it is 7:35pm and...biologically...that feels about right. 

It is possible that these little "Cauldron adventures" are taking a year or so off my life expectancy every time I attend one. The whirlwind that this trip is, delightful as it is (and it is delightful) takes an incredible toll, both physically and mentally.

Not emotionally, though. If anything, seeing these people I've come to love...my "European family"...is simply bolstering. There was no sadness, no melancholy, this time in the several rounds of good-byes said. My heart has simply come to accept that, yes, I will continue to come back, as often as I can, and that these people will be here (as often as they can), and our mutual respect, affection, and admiration does not wane or change. 

It is heartening; it is reinforcing. If I wasn't so drained (both mentally and physically), I'd imagine it would be revitalizing and reinvigorating. But I barely feel human at the moment (and that only after two long naps punctuated by an indulgently long hot shower and a rather huge meal featuring schnitzel, potatoes, and a large salad of mixed greens. Lots and lots of fresh water.

No alcohol. I think I'm going to lay off the hootch a bit and let my liver recuperate.

Back to what I was saying: depending on how far one "zooms out" there perspective, we are living in/through troubling times at the moment. There's really no way to sugar coat it. The things going on in the world, things you can read about on-line or that dominate the headlines of every news outlet every day, are not the stuff of a calm, peaceful, productive planet. It is more than sadness or disappointment or resentment...things are going very, very badly in a lot of ways and for a lot of people. There is a heightened feeling of tension running throughout most every person one encounters...an extra stress caused by worry for both the present and the future. 

Living in my normal blue bubble of Seattle, I can generally ignore most of it by focusing on the things I can control (coaching soccer, writing adventures, getting the kids fed and to school on time, etc.). Most of the time I ignore the price on meter when I put gas in the car. When shopping for groceries, I am far more particular with what I buy, trying to waste as little as possible, stretching my own resources as much as possible. I focus on being kind to others...when I can, and when the opportunities present themselves. I attend church when I can, and I pray for sanity and justice and for the safety of those struggling with real peril in the world, peril far removed from my own life of privilege.

All these things help...that is to say, they help me. But I'm not blind to what is going on and how people are feeling. This year at Cauldron, the subjects of politics and world events came up multiple times...I ended up having at least four or five conversations on the subject (which is highly unusual at this cozy, intimate, gaming convention). It comes up. People can't help themselves. And there is a desire, I think, to share those feelings, that stress, that anger, that uncertainty, with others. Not because we all need therapists or something. But because Cauldron is a safe space. The people there, largely strangers (other than the gaming clubs and groups that come together), they look at each other as friends...as family. 

And, generally speaking, not the kind of family you "have to put up with" (because they are relations and you have to extend them a certain amount of courtesy), but family whose company you enjoy. A shared tribe of gamers interested in gaming. A tribe of people who aren't there to make money, or pose for status, or exhibit their ability to lifestyle brand with panache. It's not your average nerd convention, in other words. It's Cauldron.

And so, as I left my family today (except for Alex, Grutzi, and Prince, with whom I shared the drive back to Frankfurt) I felt none of wistfulness of the last two times I've had to say goodbye. I felt only gratitude that these people exist, and that they are a part of my life, and that I am a part of theirs. And in my bones I know I will be back again, no matter what the future might hold. 

This. This community, this communal gathering of people, is SO IMPORTANT for our world right now. These safe spaces with people who quite honestly know so little about each other but who still hang together, eat together, drink together, laugh together, play together...I cannot emphasize how VALUABLE it is to have such an opportunity for this kind of gathering AT THIS EXACT TIME IN OUR WORLD. To be able to get along and find patience and tolerance and true enjoyment in each other's company, regardless of discrepancies in age or gender or nationality or religion or political alignment or WHATEVER it is that we have that might be a reason for division or separation. 

Our world needs more unity now, more love. Far more than I ever remember it needing in my 53 years of life. 

It is amusing...and fascinating...that something so humble as a game of fighting dragons and searching for imaginary treasure with the use of funny-shaped dice can be so profoundly meaningful. But, of course, it's not: D&D is simply the pretense for bringing people together. And there are many things that can do that. D&D has an advantage in that it can be enjoyed so universally, by so many people, regardless of ability. 

Ah...but now I'm meandering (or, perhaps, wandering into territory I've already discussed ad nauseam). The convention, Cauldron, is a blessing to this poor, troubled world of ours. It inspires me with real hope...one of the few things in this world that I can that about. 

And things that inspire hope need to be loved and nurtured and appreciated. Protected. But also shared. I think most of the participants (especially those who, like me, have participated multiple times) would say the same: it wouldn't do to keep it to ourselves, to grow staid and insular. Fresh blood needs to be rotated into the mix, in order that more people can experience the con and take its light back out into the world with them. So far, there has been new folks at every Cauldron...by my count, there was some 30 new attendees, despite NOT increasing the convention's size. That's wonderful, and I fervently hope it continues to be the case. I fully intend to take next year off myself, and welcome my seat being filled by someone looking to experience the warmth and camaraderie of Cauldron for the first time.

[of course, I said LAST year that I would take this year off...and here I am again. Next year, though, will be a very busy October for both my children, and I intend to stay home and support them to the best of my ability]

Anyway, if you haven't yet had the chance to take the plunge on Cauldron, it has my strongest recommendation. And please, do not have any fears or worries about "beef" or bad blood you might have with people on the internet. I cannot stress enough just how little such internet disputes matter once you are actually meeting person-to-person. You will find nothing but gentlemanly (and ladylike) conduct at Cauldron and, more, you will find comfort and lasting friendship. 

Lastly, as I sign off here (and do not worry, gentle reader, I shall be posting full "action reports" over the next few days...it is a loooong plane ride back to Seattle)...allow me to shout out my friends, my brothers, my comrades-in-arms who took the time (once again) to drive me to-and-from Frankfurt to the middle of nowhere (or the Center of the Universe, depending on how you view Hofraithe Rosenthal): to Grutz, to Alex, and yes to the so-called "Prince of Nothing:" you my friends I will cherish your generosity as much, if not more so than anyone save, of course, the Settembrini clan (and one or two others...you know who you are). As I turned away to stumble into my hotel yesterday afternoon, even more exhausted than I am at the moment, I could not help but consider us in the context of Alexandre Dumas's famous Musketeers...for who are we, if not stout warriors of the trenches, discussing strategy and results and philosophy of gaming, even as we were too busy (running games) to sit in on each others' tables. Of the four, I am most obviously Athos, the brooding drunk with the painful past (and trust me when I say I am prone to brooding), the old man of the group.  Alex is Porthos, whose styled hair and carefully chosen metal t-shirts is a match for his humor, fast driving, and willingness to haul luggage with endless strength. Grutzi is Aramis: poetic, discreet, and soft-spoken, yet secretly ambitious (how many games you running next year, Grutz?). And, of course, our d'Artagnan, Prince, because of course he is: young, witty, energetic, and all-too-often a bit "wet behind the ears." What a foursome. Riding back to Frankfurt with you, listening to everyone's cheerful banter while I drifted in-and-out of consciousness, was the perfect cap off to the entire experience. 

Thank you to everyone for the lasting memories. Thank you to everyone for lighting a beacon, a torch, in darkness...and for allowing all of us who made the journey to light our own torches from your light, as we head back into our own dark corners of the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

[posted circa 11:13am as I did, in fact, fall asleep while writing. I guess I'm not entirely on "Seattle time" after all]